


Exercises in Logic (or Lack Thereof)

by swimmingwolf59



Series: Between Worlds [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Established Relationship, M/M, bantering of course!, canon-like mentions of minor character death and space phenomena, lots of fluff, mostly canon compliant with tos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingwolf59/pseuds/swimmingwolf59
Summary: Spock and Bones find a baby in the rubble of a destroyed Outpost. Bones makes a rash decision.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Between Worlds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699312
Comments: 28
Kudos: 119





	Exercises in Logic (or Lack Thereof)

McCoy’s day started as it always did: he woke up alone in a bed that still held a fraction of Spock’s warmth, Spock himself already up to meditate in private. The room was muggy and hot, as it always was to accommodate for Spock’s Vulcan physiology, but McCoy had spent enough time in the American South growing up to long since be accustomed to stifling heat. Spock had left him all tangled up in their blankets, though, so McCoy was uncomfortably hot as he dragged himself out of bed to take a shower.

Freshly clean, he sat at their small table, pushing aside the glasses they’d used last night. Spock didn’t drink, but when McCoy needed something stronger, he would sometimes join him by drinking Vulcan spice tea instead of herbal. Apparently, this had led to them getting rowdy enough last night to forget to send the dishes back to the replicator.

As the replicator got to work decomposing the glasses, McCoy ate a simple breakfast of a cream cheese bagel, a banana, and a coffee. He liked to spend an hour catching up on the medical journals before he started his shift – sometimes Spock would join him after his meditation, reading the latest quantum mechanics journal, and sometimes he would just head straight for his shift on the Bridge. Today was the latter, it seemed.

Taking a sip of his coffee, McCoy put down his journal for a moment. Thinking about it, it was really quite incredible that he had so comfortably settled into this routine of living with Spock. His past self of three years ago, hell maybe even two years ago, certainly wouldn’t have been able to imagine it. Jim had been just as surprised when they told him, as apparently to him it had still looked like they couldn’t stand each other.

But McCoy was happy. _They_ were happy. They had found a perfect balance between work and dating, love and petty arguing. It worked for them.

The comm on their room’s computer beeped. Jim’s voice came over the line as soon as McCoy answered it. “Bones, we’re going to need several medical officers on the away team ASAP, please assemble your people and meet myself and Mister Spock in the transporter room.”

“Acknowledged, on my way.”

McCoy downed the rest of his coffee, took all the dishes back to the replicator, and then headed for Sickbay. He called several nurses to report, deciding that M’Benga and Chapel would be needed in Sickbay if they found injured people down there, and got to work assembling the med kits they would need. As usual he had no idea what to expect—this had originally been a simple restocking mission to Outpost 7, near the Neutral Zone—but by Jim’s tone he was guessing it wasn’t pretty.

As soon as the nurses were assembled and the kits were put together, they rushed down to the transporter room. Jim and Spock were already waiting for them, and as soon as the medical team stepped onto the transporter pads Scotty activated the transporter.

A few seconds later, McCoy rematerialized and the floor crumbled underneath him.

“What—?!”

“Doctor!” Spock grabbed his arm and yanked him towards him. Once he was on solid ground again, heart hammering in his ribs, McCoy whirled around to see that he had been materialized on top of a pile of rubble that had immediately crumbled under his weight. The rubble had fallen into what appeared to be a six-feet deep hole – not enough to kill him, but he certainly would’ve been badly injured.

Shakily, McCoy glanced around and realized that the whole Outpost was like that – a pile of rubble. For a moment, he could only blink in shock. They had just contacted this Outpost several hours ago, and the people there had been fine, even happy to hear that the _Enterprise_ was on its way. Now, it was absolutely nothing.

“What happened here, Spock?” McCoy demanded, stepping further away from the gaping hole.

“That is what we’re here to find out,” Spock said grimly and let go of his arm.

“I suppose I don’t have to tell any of you this, but be careful,” Jim said, walking up and patting McCoy’s shoulder. “Whatever destroyed the Outpost may still be around, not to mention the ground is apparently unstable.”

“Tell Scotty I want to have a word with him about where he decided to beam me down to,” McCoy grumbled.

Jim ignored him. “Our primary goal is to figure out what happened here, and find any survivors. But let me know if you find _anything_ unusual.”

They spread out, each person going their own way to cover more ground quickly. McCoy took out his tricorder and began scanning, careful to watch where he stepped. There had been forty people on this Outpost, so he should be picking up traces of _something_ , but there was nothing to be found, not even skin tissue.

It didn’t make any sense. Even if they had died, the tricorder should still be able to pick up something organic. Perhaps the rubble was causing some interference, but McCoy didn’t know of any building material that would cause a malfunction like that.

A sudden beeping attracted his attention, and he glanced down.

The tricorder was picking up a lifeform.

Following its signal, McCoy carefully climbed up a pile of destroyed fencing until he came upon the bulk of a collapsed house. According to the tricorder, the lifeform was directly underneath it all. Setting the tricorder down, McCoy began attempting to heave the broken slates aside.

He saw Spock wandering around not far from him, so he called out to him. “Spock, I’ve found something over here!”

Spock moved towards him as McCoy continued clearing the debris aside. When he finally lifted the last slate, he glanced down into the hole and just stared in shock at what he saw.

The infant locked eyes with him, and then began to cry.

“Doctor?” Spock was suddenly there, climbing up the pile of rubble to join him.

“It’s…it’s a baby, Spock,” he murmured, bending down to examine it with his tricorder. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, it—or she, rather—remarkably seemed fine. Hungry, no doubt, but healthy. “Vulcan, I think. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

Spock frowned as McCoy gingerly picked up the baby. Sure enough, her ears were long and pointed, just as Spock’s were. “And she is the only survivor?”

“As far as I can tell,” McCoy said, standing with the baby tucked carefully into his arms. She was still wailing, but she didn’t struggle, which was a blessing if nothing else. “It’s the damnedest thing, Spock – there were forty people living on this Outpost, and I can’t find a trace of a single one of them, except for this baby. Normally there would be skin tissues, or hair, or _something_ we could pick up, but there’s nothing. No bodies, no people, no _nothing_.”

“That matches my findings as well,” Spock said. “The pattern of destruction is also quite unusual – only the houses seem to have been targeted. The laboratory that I found was completely intact, everything inside still exactly where it should be.”

“What the devil happened on this planet?” McCoy muttered, staring down at the baby. Her wailing only seemed to be getting louder.

Spock, imperceptibly, winced. “Perhaps you should return to the ship, Doctor.”

“Perhaps.” McCoy couldn’t help but take a jab at Spock. “Know any Vulcan baby formulas offhand?”

Spock raised both of his eyebrows. “I was under the impression that you could surmise her dietary needs and replicate something accordingly, but perhaps I misjudged your capabilities.”

“…Never mind, Spock, you took all the fun out of it.” McCoy scowled and flipped open his communicator. “Hey Scotty, you there?”

“Aye, Doctor—is that…is that a babe wailin’?”

“It is – long story. Just beam me up, will you? And tell Nurse Chapel to start looking through the replicator files for a basis for baby formula.”

\--

“I did find a chemical structure for an old Earth formula, but it may need to be updated,” Christine said, her eyebrows shooting up as McCoy bustled into Sickbay with the baby in his arms. “I must admit, Doctor, I thought I misheard when Engineer Scott told me what to look into.”

“Trust me, Christine, we’re all in a state of shock. She’s the only survivor down there, as far as we can tell,” McCoy mumbled, placing the baby carefully down on one of the biobeds. She had stopped crying when they’d transported aboard, possibly from shock, but now she fussed a little bit, likely because of the cold surface. McCoy went to the replicator to see if he could make something of a blanket for her. “Could you pull up Mister Spock’s records? And call over Geoff if he’s not busy – we need all the help we can get here.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said and left the room.

McCoy scavenged a blanket from the replicator and returned to the baby, wrapping it carefully around her. She looked at him with her large eyes and her large ears, as if trying to figure him out. She was remarkably calm now, considering she was starving, had been alone for hell knows how long, and was now in a strange place with strange people. But perhaps this was normal for Vulcan babies – he just didn’t know a damn thing. He’d have to wrestle Spock in here too, if he could.

“Alright, now just hold tight for a moment. We’ll get you that milk, but I have to scan you first. This won’t hurt a bit, alright?” McCoy murmured to her, preparing his tricorder.

She gurgled at him, and grabbed onto his finger when he held it out to her.

Letting out a harsh breath, McCoy got to work.

\--

Several hours in orbit had told them almost nothing about who, or what, had destroyed the Outpost. After returning from a futile search of the planet, Spock had decided to move on from scanning, and rescanning, the planet over and over to checking the Outpost computer records. Specifically, he was looking for any evidence of Vulcans and a baby on the station. There was a slim chance that looking into the background of the only known survivor would shed some light on the situation.

Pulling up her parents’ records was easy enough, though there was surprisingly little in them. They were civilians, unassociated with Starfleet outside of living and working on a Federation Outpost, and their place of origin simply read: _Vulcan_. No city, no continent. Highly unusual. 

Even more unusual, there were no records at all of a baby.

Spock tapped into the Vulcan census records to try and find more information about the parents. It didn’t really surprise him when the computer came up with no results. Vulcan conducted a census every several months, and it was always completely accurate because there was no logic in not complying. The census was very thorough, and thus would have extremely detailed records of birth place, current living situation, along with many other demographics. It would never copy over to a Starfleet record simply as “Vulcan.”

So either there was a reason these two had somehow missed the census all their lives, or they were not who they said they were.

Spock had just about found the answer when his comm beeped. “McCoy to Spock.”

Spock pressed the comm button. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Come down to Sickbay when you have a moment, I want to compare this baby’s readings to yours. And we need a bit more knowledge of Vulcans down here.”

With a glance at Jim, who waved him on, Spock nodded. “Acknowledged, I’m on my way.”

When he arrived at Sickbay, McCoy immediately ushered him into the biobed next to the baby. Nurse Chapel and Doctor M’Benga were in the other room, huddled over a computer screen together.

McCoy attached a pulse and heart monitoring device to Spock’s finger. “I’ve scanned the baby several times, but I just can’t make any headway with it. I want to compare your readings to hers to see if we can find out if there’s anything unusual going on with her.”

Spock nodded. “Logical, Doctor, but there is something I should tell you—”

He was interrupted by McCoy shoving a bottle of what appeared to be milk into his hands. “In the meantime, make yourself useful by feeding her some of that. Freshly made by yours truly.”

Spock stared at the bottle in his hands, and then back up at McCoy. He was reminded uncomfortably of the time McCoy had tried to force him to hold a baby on Capella IV. “Doctor—”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never fed a baby before.”

Spock looked at him in confusion. “I am unsure what about me gave you the impression that I have ever done this before.”

McCoy seemed to find this amusing, for some unknowable reason. “Alright, I’ll show you how. See, you hold her like this—”

Several minutes of awkward fumbling and petty arguing later, Spock sat stiffly with the baby in his arms as she drank eagerly from the bottle. Despite the food, she seemed extremely unhappy with her current positioning. Spock had to admit that he felt much the same way.

“Darling,” McCoy drawled, grinning as he began taking his scans.

Spock huffed. “I fail to understand your amusement, Leonard.”

“I’m sure you do.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the scans, the only noises coming from the equipment and the baby suckling. She drank about half of the bottle before falling asleep, and Spock felt some relief when he was finally able to tuck her back into her blanket.

“I just don’t know, Spock,” McCoy muttered when he had finished the tests. “In many ways she’s the same as you—green blood, those pointed ears, heart where her liver should be—but there are so many… _little differences_ , I can’t tell if it’s because she’s unhealthy, or what. Geoff seems to think they’re within normal parameters for Vulcans, but something about it just seems off to me.”

“As I tried to inform you earlier, that is because she’s not Vulcan, Doctor,” Spock said, looking up at him. “She’s Romulan.”

McCoy just stared at him for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. “ _What?!_ ”

“There were only two people on the station that could’ve been her parents, and they were Romulans. It seems they were masquerading as Vulcans, as it required an extensive search to find any hints of their true origins.”

McCoy’s eyebrow raised. “Romulan spies, then?”

“Possible, though it seems unlikely that undercover operatives would decide to have a child,” Spock said, crossing his arms. “The Outpost was close to the Neutral Zone – it is possible that they had to leave Romulus for some reason and yet wished to stay nearby.”

“Do you think they were involved with the Outpost’s destruction?” McCoy asked.

“I do not have enough evidence to support either answer. Though it does seem rather odd that their baby was the only one to survive the attack.”

“And without any injuries, too,” McCoy muttered, glancing down at the baby. He was quiet for a moment, something in his gaze that Spock had never seen before. It was slightly unnerving, as he had thought he had learned every facial pattern of his partner.

“There’s something else,” Spock said, waiting until McCoy looked back up at him to continue. “The baby has no computer records.”

“… _None?_ ” McCoy repeated.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “None.”

“But that doesn’t make any damn sense – they should’ve at least given her a medical scan when she was born.” McCoy gestured in the vague direction of his computer. “Hell, I have several records of her already, just from the last couple of hours!”

“You are correct, and yet the fact still stands: there is no record of this baby. Not in Starfleet, not on Vulcan, and, according to our limited information, not on Romulus.”

“That is _completely_ against Starfleet regulations,” McCoy growled. “I sure wish I could talk to the doctor that was down there, of all the _imbecile_ —”

The beeping of the comm interrupted him. McCoy moved to the wall to answer it. “McCoy here.”

“Bones, can you release your patient? Mister Spock’s presence is required on the Bridge.”

One of McCoy’s eyebrows raised, and he looked at Spock. “Yeah, you can have him. He’s on his way.”

Spock stood from the biobed. “What are you going to do with the baby in the meantime?”

“I don’t know, Spock.” McCoy suddenly sounded tired as he rubbed his face. “Let her sleep, I guess.”

“And if she wakes up?”

McCoy looked up at him sharply. “…Why are you asking all this?”

“I am simply concerned that she will interfere with your work,” Spock said, though there was another reason, one he wasn’t even sure he could express exactly. It just seemed…unwise, suddenly, to leave McCoy alone with the baby.

McCoy spread his arms out. “Do you see anyone else in here? She’ll be fine, Spock. I’ll take care of her.”

He did not say _That’s what I am worried about_ , but he thought it.

McCoy, who had always been exemplary at reading him despite repeatedly claiming otherwise, scoffed and reached up to press his thumb against the corner of Spock’s mouth gently. “It’s alright, you’ve got better things to worry about.”

“That is not true,” Spock murmured, grasping McCoy’s hand and pressing a soft kiss to his finger. “Do not do anything…irrational.”

Now McCoy was grinning. “Why Mister Spock, when have I _ever_ done anything like that?”

And while he was certainly being sarcastic, Spock did feel slightly better as he finally left Sickbay and returned to the Bridge.

“We’re picking up something on long range scanners, Mister Spock,” Jim said as soon as the turbolift doors had shut behind Spock. “Not far from the planet.”

Replacing Chekov at his station, Spock peered into the scope and began analyzing the computer readings. “They are small, metallic objects, Captain. Mass, configuration, and elemental make-up seem to suggest escape pods. There are approximately 40 of them.”

“Our missing people?” Jim questioned, rubbing his chin. He pounded the comm button on his chair. “Scotty, beam those pods aboard and send them directly to Sickbay.”

\--

McCoy had just finished replicating more milk for the baby when he got the communication.

“Bones, Scotty’s wheeling about 40 escape pods up to you right now, take a look at them as soon as you can.”

“Hold on a moment, Scotty’s wheeling _how many_ —”

He didn’t even get the question fully out before Scotty’s transporter team burst through the doors, wheeling giant escape pods on gurneys. They didn’t even stop to ask McCoy where to put them, just simply started squeezing them in wherever they fit. If McCoy didn’t do something, he’d get trapped in the back corner with no way to access his equipment, let alone any of the damn pods. Not to mention that all of the sudden activity had woken the baby up, and she was now starting to wail again.

McCoy was going to burst a blood vessel.

“Hold on just a damn minute!” he snarled, coming out from behind the baby’s biobed and standing directly in front of one of the pods, stopping it with his body. “Does this place look like a storage compartment to you? You can’t fit all these blasted things in here!”

The Ensign at least had the decency to look chastened. “Sorry, Doctor – where would you like them?”

“I don’t know, take them to the Bridge if you have to, just get them out of here!” McCoy gestured towards the pod behind him. “The one will suffice for now.”

“Yes, sir.” The Ensign saluted and then, for some darned reason, tried to turn the pod _around_ instead of just moving to the other end and pushing it back.

McCoy gritted his teeth. “Ensign, if I may?”

And then he shoved both him and the pod out of his Sickbay.

A migraine already starting to pound in his temples, McCoy retreated to the biobed. The baby was still crying, so he picked her up in one arm and tried to rock her as he slapped the comm with his other hand. “Nurse Chapel, could you please make sure all those blasted coffins aren’t just sitting outside Sickbay? I’d rather not have to treat hundreds of injuries because Scotty’s Ensigns don’t know where to store a goddamn escape pod. And when you’re done with that, please join me in Sickbay.”

“Acknowledged, Doctor,” Christine’s voice came over the line a second later. McCoy thanked his lucky stars every day for Christine – she had saved him from more trauma and headaches than she could ever imagine. 

While he waited for her, he continued to rock the baby, who had calmed down for the most part once the commotion had died down. She was now busying herself playing with his sleeve, grasping at it and seeming to delight in the way it felt in her tiny hands.

McCoy smiled fondly at her and thumbed at her cheek, much the same way he had done to Spock earlier. He thought he knew exactly what Spock had misgivings about, but he couldn’t really help his damn heart. He just couldn’t do emotional distancing like Spock did, not for something like this.

“Sorry for the delay, Doctor,” Christine said, bustling in suddenly. She gave him a knowing look. “The pods were all outside Sickbay, just as you thought.”

McCoy let out an irritated sigh. “Goddamn Ensigns, what are they even teaching in Starfleet Academy nowadays? You’d think they’d teach people not to leave their shit all over the place where people can trip on them.”

Christine’s mouth quirked into a smile. “That ‘shit’ you’re referring to Doctor happens to be people.”

“Well, you must be under the impression that people aren’t shit,” McCoy said, grinning back. “I admire your innocence.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and then looked at the baby. “How is she handling all this?”

“Fine, as far as I can tell. She was making a huge fuss when those idiots were trying to push all the pods in here, but she’s calmed down now.” He set her carefully back down in her blanket on the biobed. She reached for him as he withdrew, kicking her tiny legs, which sent a spear straight through his heart. Goddamn, he was going to have a hard time with this one.

“You’re surprisingly good with children, Doctor,” Christine said as she brought some scanners and medical equipment to the table next to the escape pod. “I thought you would make them cry.”

“You know, Nurse, so did I,” McCoy said with a laugh as he snapped on some gloves. “I wish you could’ve seen it earlier – Spock was sitting here, feeding her milk from a bottle! It was just about the damned cutest thing I ever saw.”

Christine chuckled. “ _Spock_? I can hardly even imagine it.”

“He was stiff as a board – can you imagine that?”

“Quite.” She laughed once more and then sobered as she snapped on her own gloves. “I’m going to open the pod now.”

McCoy was intending to just let her do it, but then something caught his eye through the pod’s window. Something that was absolutely not _right_.

“Wait, Nurse!” he shouted, grabbing Christine’s arm. “Don’t open them.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Doctor?”

He pointed at the face he could see through the pod’s clear window. “What is _that_?”

Christine peered inside. A giant green blob of a thing sat on the person’s head, completely obscuring their face. Long green tendrils like insect legs draped over the sides of the head. It was luminescent, and it was pulsing.

\--

“A parasite, of some kind,” McCoy told Jim. He and Spock were both staring into the stasis tube McCoy had transferred the organism into. “Now that our scanners know what to look for, they’re everywhere on the planet. From what I gathered, it spends the first part of its life cycle just growing among native foliage, but after that it needs energy from a humanoid host. When it attaches to a host, it causes an explosion large enough to destroy a home, likely to incapacitate the host.”

“That’s what we saw down on the planet,” Jim said, and McCoy nodded. “Why did they attack all the people down there at once?”

“It appears the organism lays a large amount of eggs that all hatch, and thus mature, around the same time,” Spock said. “The organism only needs the host for the first few days – it seems to sap all energy from its host, leaving it fit to live out the rest of its life cycle and the host dead. This is likely why there was no humanoid life on the planet when the Federation first discovered it.”

Jim thought about this for a moment. “Those people must have known they would all die. Why send themselves out into space, and risk further contamination?”

“The baby,” McCoy murmured, staring at the girl. He had set her up in his office in a makeshift crib he’d wrestled out of the replicator in order to get her as far away as possible from the contaminated pod. She was asleep, for now, and was as healthy as McCoy could tell, having only Spock’s norms to compare hers to. “I’ve gone over her four times, and she shows no evidence of the parasite, nor do any of us from the landing party.”

“The rest of the parasites from that particular brood must have died off from lack of energy before we beamed down,” Spock added.

“But the baby was skipped over,” Jim murmured.

“She likely did not provide the parasite with enough energy, and thus was not worth the attachment,” Spock said.

“I think these people sent themselves out into space to protect the baby, and maybe us, from further contamination,” McCoy said. “They knew we were coming, that we could pick her up safely once they had taken the living parasites away from the planet. They did it to save her.”

Jim was sullen for a moment. “So, all that’s left is to destroy the remaining parasites.”

“There’s nothing about them that says they’re immune to phaser blast,” McCoy said. “I’d say the best we can do is send these pods back out and shoot at them.”

“It would be the simplest and safest method,” Spock agreed.

Jim mulled this over, somber. “Forty people, dead, just like that.”

“It must’ve been a horrific way to die,” McCoy agreed, staring down at the person they had detached the parasite from. It wasn’t the baby’s parent, but a human. McCoy had been tempted to search through the pods for the baby’s parents, but decided that he’d rather not have that image haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I’ll put out a warning to other ships that may pass by here while I’m at it, to prevent something like this from happening again,” Jim said.

Spock nodded. “Wise, Captain.”

“…Right. I’ll be on the Bridge if you need me.”

Spock stayed behind and helped McCoy return the parasite back to the escape pod. The same Ensign from before came in to take it back out, nodding embarrassingly at McCoy as he went. McCoy stripped off his gloves and tossed them at the replicator. They missed by about five meters.

“What a goddamn mess,” he sighed, rubbing his face.

Spock stepped closer to him, and McCoy rested his forehead on his shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Spock pressed his hands gently to the back of his head and just between his shoulder blades, grounding him.

“You could not have saved them, Leonard.”

“I know.”

They stood there for a moment, just appreciating each other’s presence. McCoy tried not to think about the absolute look of horror that had been on that dead officer’s face.

After a while, the baby started to fuss again in the office.

McCoy sighed and stood up straight. “Damn, almost forgot about her.”

He could tell from Spock’s eyebrows that he didn’t believe him.

“How old would you estimate the baby to be, Doctor?” Spock asked as he followed McCoy into his office.

McCoy picked up the baby and began rocking her. She sniffled but fell quiet again – this time she was staring curiously at Spock. “It’s hard to tell, but I can’t imagine she’s older than a couple of months.”

Spock nodded. “Then it is possible that the Outpost had just discovered the parasites at the time of her birth, and thus there was no time to record it. Perhaps they felt there was no need to at all since they knew of their impeding deaths.”

“Why wouldn’t they tell us, then?” McCoy hissed. “We talked to those people hours before they were all killed!”

“Perhaps they overestimated how long it would take the parasites to mature. Perhaps they were waiting to see if they could make it onboard before the parasites attacked.”

“So it was just a stroke of damned bad luck, huh?” McCoy sighed, staring down at the baby. “And now she’s left all alone in the world.” 

Spock rested his hands on McCoy’s shoulders. “Leonard, ask Doctor M’Benga to watch the baby for a little while. You need to rest.”

And honestly, McCoy was so goddamn tired he couldn’t even find it in himself to argue.

\--

Spock did not intend to sleep, but he laid with Leonard anyway.

Leonard was always deeply disturbed by events such as these. Spock did not know how he survived being a doctor when mass amounts of death seemed to strip everything that he was away from him, but he supposed he would not be Leonard McCoy if he was any less passionate, any less involved with the people he tried to heal.

It did not stop Spock from worrying about him, but by now he knew at least a little bit about how to help him.

He turned their room’s environmental controls down a few degrees in temperature and grabbed Leonard’s old comforter from the storage compartment. He then wrapped Leonard up in it and crawled underneath himself, wrapping his body around Leonard’s. Leonard thrashed a little, but then burrowed himself into Spock’s chest and closed his eyes. He always complained it was “too damn hot” when Spock did this, but it had yet to fail to put him immediately to sleep.

Spock ran his fingers gently through Leonard’s hair and thought about what to do about the baby.

He had not intended to sleep, but he must have dozed, because when he awoke Leonard was no longer in bed with him. Getting up, Spock hurried out of their room. He had a feeling he knew exactly where Leonard had gone, and he was not pleased.

Just as he had expected, he found Leonard in Sickbay, specifically his office, where the baby was. There was no one else around, suggesting that he had dismissed M’Benga, and perhaps Nurse Chapel as well. He was standing in the office, staring at the baby in his arms with a soft smile as she cooed and flapped her arms at him. Spock was once again reminded of the away mission on Capella IV, and how starstruck Leonard had been with that baby, as well. He had a suspicion that he was not going to win this argument.

Especially when he saw the determined and defensive look in Leonard’s eyes when he looked up at him as Spock entered his office.

Spock sighed inwardly, his voice becoming a bit pinched. “Doctor—”

“I know you’re not going to like it, but—”

“We cannot raise the baby.”

McCoy’s features settled into a frown. “Her parents are dead, Spock – she needs someone to take care of her.”

“But it does not need to be _us_ ,” Spock urged, not quite able to keep a slight note of panic from his tone. 

“Yes, it does!” Leonard snapped. “We couldn’t save her parents, and now we’re the closest thing to a ‘normal life’ that she has! We know what diet she needs, how to calm her down when she cries, what her vitals are more or less supposed to look like.”

“All of those things could be easily attached to her computer records.” Spock could not follow Leonard’s argument in any capacity. “Your reasoning is illogical, Leonard.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?!” Leonard snarled. “Jettison her out into space in a pod, just like her parents?”

“We will stop at the next starbase and have it arranged that she be cared for and put up for adoption there,” Spock said calmly.

Leonard’s scowl deepened. “No.”

“It is not logical to raise a baby on a starship.” Spock furrowed his brow, just barely biting back his frustration. “I fail to understand why you are so adamant about keeping her.”

“We’re the only ones that know she’s Romulan, Spock! We can’t just leave her out there – _I’m_ not leaving her out there.” Something softened in his expression as he looked down at the baby again. She was quiet, for now, but that never seemed to last long with her. “If we just sent her away to an adoption center, who _knows_ where she’d end up, and whoever ended up being her parents wouldn’t know a thing about her history or her heritage.”

“We also do not know anything about her history or heritage,” Spock interjected, but Leonard ignored him.

“She’s totally helpless Spock, she would need someone to care for her during the journey anyway. And we could raise her, I know we could.”

Spock was highly doubtful of this. Maybe Leonard could, but Spock knew he himself did not have the necessary credentials to be a successful parent, nor did he know where to even begin to look for guidance on how to learn. Not to mention that he and Leonard both worked long hours, thus it would be difficult to fit parenting into their already packed schedules. 

But he also knew the look in Leonard’s eyes, and he sighed. There would be no point in voicing any of these concerns: he was sure Leonard had already come up with a completely irrational and emotional counterargument for each one. He was already, as humans tended to be, completely attached.

Spock briefly wondered why he spent so much time around humans.

Then, for the first time, he looked down at the baby.

She was smaller than he remembered when he’d held her earlier, though admittedly he had been doing everything possible to block out the situation. The only thing large about her were her ears – it would take many years for her to grow into them, and so they looked impossibly large on her tiny head. Leonard was at least right about her vulnerability – she was completely helpless in this state, prone to any and all dangers. A starship would provide even more dangers, but with the chief medical officer and the first officer looking out for her, it was more likely she would survive.

It was a terrible idea; he knew it, Leonard knew it.

And yet he reached his hand out, intending to place a few fingers on her head to get a feel for her mind. Instead, the baby latched onto his finger and smiled a nearly toothless smile.

It suddenly seemed illogical to argue any further.

\--

“And you _approved_ this?” Jim said incredulously to Spock after McCoy told him about their haphazard plan.

McCoy looked over at his partner, just as curious for an answer as Jim was. He honestly hadn’t thought Spock would give in so easily – there was some part of him that had expected to have to try and wrestle the baby away from Spock as he tried to deposit her into an escape pod. He certainly hadn’t expected that Spock would look down at the baby as she clung to his finger, something impossibly soft crinkling his eyes, and agree.

He still thought he must be dreaming.

Spock pursed his lips. “Against better judgement, yes.”

“Well, what do you know?” Jim said, smiling. “Mister Spock’s a big softie after all!”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him feeding her earlier,” McCoy said, grinning.

“I am the only other Vulcan on board,” Spock said, locking eyes with McCoy. “If it is a necessity that we do this—and Doctor McCoy is adamant about this point—then I am the most qualified to…to guide her.”

“For my money, Jim, there’s just something about her,” McCoy said, bouncing the baby a bit. She gurgled happily at him. “Once you look at her, you can’t help but feel like you want to keep her.”

“Well she certainly has _you_ under her spell, Bones,” Jim joked.

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Do you accept our plan or not, Jim?”

Jim held his hands out. “I don’t really see what I need to accept. It’s between you two if you want to raise a child or not.”

“Because we do not plan on resigning, the baby will be raised onboard the _Enterprise_. A baby has never before been raised on a Federation starship, nor are there any regulations about it. We would have to establish all the guidelines and regulations,” Spock said. “Based on that information, it seems logical that you should decide if you want the _Enterprise_ to undergo the challenge of having a child onboard.”

“But if I say no, Bones may kill me in my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” McCoy said, and then grinned. “You’d be awake, so you knew who killed you.”

Jim chuckled. Spock opened his mouth to say something, a frown on his face, but Jim cut over him. “You know Mister Spock, even without Bones’s vague threats, I for one think it’d be kind of nice to have a kid onboard. Cheer things up around here.”

“…You may not still think that way when you hear how she cries,” Spock said, his lips pulling down like they did when he was trying not to smile.

“Well I’ll be Spock, don’t go developing a sense of humor now!” McCoy snapped, but his heart was pounding quickly in his chest. They were doing this – they were really doing this.

“Of course, we’ll have to discuss health and safety measures for her,” Jim continued. “And who will watch her when you’re both on duty.”

“Geoff already volunteered,” McCoy interjected. “He’s fond of Vulcans, and he did his medical internship on Vulcan – he’s the best person to look after her. And since he works the night shift anyway, it should balance out perfectly.”

Jim nodded. “Alright, then I guess my first question is – where will she sleep? She can’t stay in your office forever.”

“Our quarters, of course,” McCoy said, frowning. Wasn’t that damn obvious?

Jim raised his eyebrows. “I believe my question still stands.”

…Ah, right, because their room was about the size of a glorified broom closet.

Spock stared at McCoy with an eyebrow raised, apparently also interested in an answer.

McCoy rocked a bit on his feet. “…We’ll make it work.”

\--

‘Making it work’ was not an easy task.

While Leonard technically still had his own quarters, which were mainly being used for storage nowadays, he had officially moved into Spock’s quarters a year ago. It wasn’t a space made for two people, but they had been ‘making it work.’

Now they had to try and ‘make it work’ for three people.

Leonard threw his hands up in exasperation. “What if we just—got rid of the table?”

Spock stared at him incredulously. “Get rid of the table? And what do you plan to do with all of the computers, books, and PADDs currently sitting on the table?”

“Instead of criticizing all my ideas, why don’t you use that Vulcan brain of yours to _solve_ this problem?” Leonard snarled.

“I believe it is impossible.”

Leonard scoffed, and just on cue the baby began to cry. “Fine – you go feed the baby, and I’ll do this myself.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, but at that point he was feeling petty enough that he wanted to see if Leonard would be able to do it without his help. So he picked the baby up from the bed, sat in his chair, and grabbed her bottle from the _table_.

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point – the table stays.”

“Logical, Leonard.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

If Spock was at knifepoint and had to say one good thing about the human race, he would say that they were incredibly innovative. He would not add that they were often motivated to be innovative by spite, because he still wasn’t sure if that was a normal human custom, or just a quirk of the one he happened to be in love with.

Regardless, he supposed Leonard deserved praise, as he managed to reasonably solve the problem Spock had thought was unsolvable. It turned out there was a problem with the table, but rotating it and moving the chairs around made it possible to fit the baby’s crib along the wall that sat between the living space and the bed. He squeezed some of the smaller tables into their bedroom, stacked his excess books on one and the baby’s supplies on the other, and rearranged the knickknacks to make room.

It felt a bit cluttered, but everything, surprisingly, fit.

“Ha!” Leonard said, grinning brightly as he stood in the middle of the room and surveyed his work. “And you thought it was impossible.”

“Perhaps you should resign as chief medical officer and take up a career as an interior decorator.”

“Why, thank you darlin’.” Leonard sounded all too pleased with himself as he sat down next to Spock and put his feet up on Spock’s lap. “Look, now I don’t even have to get up to use the replicator!”

“That seems ill-advised,” Spock said, setting the milk down on the table as the baby dropped it. She always got sleepy after she ate, and so she was starting to doze off in the crook of his arm. “Perhaps we should go to sleep, as well.”

“Yeah, probably.” Leonard leaned forward slightly to rub his finger along the baby’s cheek. “…Thanks for agreeing to do this.”

“I still do not understand why you were so insistent, but…”

Leonard raised his eyebrows. “But?”

“Well, there’s just something about her.”

Leonard grinned, just as Spock had thought he would. “Jim was right – you are a big softie.”

“Not at all. It’s simply—”

“Don’t you dare say logical!” Leonard laughed, shoving at his shoulder. “Just let me have this one.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, and stood to place the baby gently in her crib and follow Leonard to bed. “I believe I already have.”

\--

That night, with Leonard clinging to him like an Earth sloth and the baby in her crib, both asleep, Spock looked up and read every known file Starfleet records had on ‘Parenting’ on his PADD.

\--

“She needs a name,” Spock said when the change in Leonard’s breathing told him he was awake.

Leonard mumbled something incoherent and then rubbed his eyes. “Who needs a what?”

“The baby. She needs a name.”

It was quiet for so long that Spock almost thought that Leonard had fallen back asleep. Then he mumbled, “How about Joanna?”

This seemed acceptable. Spock had no qualms with it, other than that it was human, but she did have one and a half human parents, and they had not yet discussed how they would raise her, so it wasn’t a real disagreement. “Agreed. And a last name?”

“Your turn,” Leonard mumbled, and then his breathing evened back out into sleep.

Spock thought about it for a long time, long after he had gotten out of bed at his usual time. He didn’t want her to be totally isolated from any connection she may want to have with Romulus when she grew just because of her name, but it also couldn’t be obvious enough to give away the truth of her heritage. It would have to be Vulcan enough, but perhaps a rare Vulcan name would be sufficient.

He entered his morning meditation no closer to an answer and came out of it fresh with what he knew was right.

When McCoy walked onto the bridge later that day to hang around Jim, Spock caught his eye. “How about T’Ralek?”

Jim was looking at him strangely, but McCoy smiled, something wide and happy and usually reserved for their personal time alone together. “Fine. That’s just fine.”

\--

Joanna T’Ralek was logged into the medical banks that evening with an estimated birthdate of Stardate 2268.52. Underneath the basic demographic details, her birth certificate marked the names of her parents, both labeled as deceased. Under that, her adoptive parents were listed as Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, MD and Commander Spock. The document was signed and approved by one Captain James T. Kirk.

\--

“We need to discuss how we plan to raise her,” Spock said the next morning.

Leonard grumbled and thrashed against him briefly. “Spock, if this is your idea of pillow talk, I’m getting the hell out of here.”

“This is not ‘pillow talk’ – I am trying to have a serious conversation.”

“And _why_ do we have to have a serious conversation at—” Leonard squinted at the clock by their bed, “—0400 hours?”

Spock took a calming breath. “When would you wish to have it, then?”

“Sometime when I’m not half-asleep,” Leonard snapped and rolled onto his stomach.

He woke again at exactly 0423, when Joanna began to cry.

Spock nudged him. “It is your turn to change her diaper, Leonard.”

Leonard mumbled a string of curses that were certainly not appropriate for infant ears, and then pulled himself out of bed. “Alright, Spock, you win. I’ll change her diaper, sit with her a bit, and while I’m doing all that, we can have this ‘serious conversation.’”

Spock nodded, pleased. “Good. I believe it is important we discuss this as soon as possible.”

Spock got out of bed as well and sat at the table as Leonard picked up the baby and trudged his way over to the replicator. Programming in Joanna’s baby formula had been easy enough, and now all it required was for Leonard to mumble, “Joanna 1,” for it to appear.

Bottle in hand, Leonard collapsed into their other chair. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, but his hands were sturdy as he propped Joanna up and placed the bottle to her lips. She latched onto it eagerly, drinking steadily. Leonard had said that this was a good sign, as it meant that she was developing properly and wasn’t malnourished.

Spock had learned over the last couple of days that he rather enjoyed watching Leonard with the baby, now that there wasn’t so much uncertainty behind it. Leonard was a completely different person around Joanna – while crass and argumentative with just about everyone (so far, Spock’s mother was the only known exception), everything harsh and defensive about him fell away when he was with Joanna. He looked at her with the softest expression Spock had ever seen on him, his unconstrained affection practically palpable.

He would never admit this to anyone, and only quietly admitted it to himself, but it was within the realm of possibility for him to sit here forever watching Leonard and Joanna and be completely content.

“What is it you wanted to talk about, Spock?” Leonard murmured after a while, looking up at him.

Spock quickly pulled his facial muscles back into a neutral expression. “I wish to discuss how we plan to raise her.”

“…You mean if we raise her primarily on Vulcan or human values.”

“Or Romulan, yes.”

“…You and I both know that neither of us have the ability to raise her as a Romulan.” Leonard sighed and rubbed his face. “Hell, Spock, I’d love to raise her as a Romulan – I want her to have knowledge about her home world and her heritage, but we just don’t _know_ anything about it. Not to mention that in this day and age, it’s a hell of a lot safer to be a Vulcan associated with Starfleet than a Romulan.”

“I am forced to agree with you. As the world is right now, it would put her too much at risk to reveal her true heritage.” Spock reached out and gently pressed his fingers to Joanna’s head. She glanced at him, but didn’t stop drinking from the bottle. “I believe it is best to hide her heritage for now, and tell her when she is capable of making her own decisions.”

“You’re probably right.” Finally done with the bottle, Leonard tossed it haphazardly back at the replicator and then pushed Joanna up onto his shoulder to burp her gently. “As for your other question, I honestly don’t see why we can’t just raise her with both Vulcan and human values.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Because they are often in conflict with one another.”

“Yeah, but _you_ grew up with both, didn’t you?” Spock opened his mouth to say something, but Leonard snorted and continued, “Yeah, I know, look how well you turned out, right? But I mean, that was because of your personal choice, not because Amanda raised you with human values, right?”

“My mother recognized that her values made many Vulcans uncomfortable, and thus she did not share as much as she probably wanted to with me,” Spock said softly. It was never easy talking about his mother.

“But you grew up among Vulcans. Joanna will grow up among humans.”

Spock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked down at the floor rather than at Leonard when he said, “I do not wish for her to end up like me.”

Leonard was silent for a moment. “…What do you mean by that?”

“As a child, I was often…bullied by other children because I was half-human, and they wanted to see if they could provoke an emotional response from me. Because of this, I chose to suppress my human side, and I continue to fight it every day of my life. I do not wish for her to be so conflicted with herself.”

“Hey, no one’s going to be bullying Joanna on this ship, alright?” Leonard leaned forward and cupped Spock’s cheek with his hand, not lifting his face, but simply caressing his skin with his thumb. “Everyone on board has a hell of a lot of respect for Vulcans because of all that you’ve done. I think, if we do it right, she’ll feel free to be as Vulcan, or as human, as she’d like. And no one here is going to fault her for the occasional emotional outburst. I mean, she’ll be raised by _me_ after all.”

Spock scoffed a little and finally looked up. “Leonard, I must admit that I feel…overwhelmed by the prospect of being a parent. I do not believe I have the necessary skillset to be a successful one.”

“No one’s born knowing how to be a parent, Spock. We’re _supposed_ to be fumbling around and fucking up, but what matters is that we’re _trying_. And you and me? We make a pretty good team, you know. We’ll figure it out.”

Spock let out a shaky breath. He covered Leonard’s hand with his own and turned his head to kiss his palm gently. “I admire your confidence, Leonard.”

“You know me, I’m a master bullshitter.” Spock raised his eyebrows and Leonard laughed. “Alright, I know, no bullshitting this one.”

“Thank you.” Spock dropped Leonard’s hand and sat back. “…So you wish to attempt mixing human and Vulcan values.”

“Sure, why the hell not? And if we find they’re majorly conflicting, we can sit down and talk about which one we want to follow.”

“You mean argue,” Spock said, letting some of his amusement slip into his tone.

Leonard grinned. “Well of course – we don’t know how to do anything else.”

“We are going to be terrible at this, aren’t we?” Spock murmured, gently taking Joanna from Leonard as she began to doze off again.

Leonard’s mouth quirked. “Probably, but hell, we can’t be worse than anybody else.” 

“…I hope she will not resent us for keeping her Romulan heritage from her,” Spock added, standing and gently returning Joanna to her crib.

Leonard followed him, standing close enough for their shoulders to press together as they both watched her sleep for a moment. He wrapped his arm around Spock’s waist, his hand resting above his heart. Spock leaned into his comforting touch. “She’ll be shocked sure, but resentful? I don’t think she would be. It’s not like we all need to be the same species to be family, after all – I mean you and I are about as different as a bull’s tits and a penguin’s balls!”

Spock quirked an amused eyebrow. He was long since used to Leonard’s…interesting sayings, but that was a new one. “Leonard, I would suggest you curb back your language if you wish to have any part in raising our daughter.”

Leonard just flapped his mouth at him, for once in his life completely speechless.

“Our daughter,” he finally murmured when they were in bed again, trying to get as much rest as possible before their alarms went off.

Spock hummed his agreement.

It did have a nice sound to it.

\--

Joanna was a complete hit with the rest of the crew. Anytime they brought her to the mess hall or the observation deck, they were immediately surrounded by crew members who wanted to hold her or coo at her. McCoy thought it was charming – Spock found it insufferable.

“I don’t know why they insist on surrounding her wherever we go,” Spock said in annoyance one evening.

“It’s because she’s cute as a button,” McCoy said back, grinning, but he thought he knew the real reason.

There wasn’t much… _humanity_ on a starship. Living in your workplace was a situation many people had never quite learned how to handle, and nearly every day a person was faced with action, anxiety, stress, and, sometimes, death. There wasn’t much of the good that came with being human on board, and that was why McCoy believed the crew were so attracted to Joanna. She represented something from a calmer aspect of life, an aspect that most of them missed desperately.

He doubted Spock would understand that.

Joanna on her part seemed to revel in the attention, smiling and laughing with whoever decided to hold her that evening. She seemed to find everyone entertaining—and they certainly were making fools of themselves. McCoy knew he at least would be using Scotty’s shit attempt at playing peek-a-boo with her as blackmail the next time he refused to come in for a physical.

She was, however, especially taken with Uhura.

It had become habit for Spock and Uhura to perform little duets a few times a week for the crew. McCoy usually came, as he loved listening to Spock play—and Uhura had a damn good, angelic voice—but now he especially made sure to come and bring Joanna with him.

She, like most everyone, was absolutely captivated by Uhura’s voice. The difference was that it wasn’t only when she was singing, though that definitely put Joanna in enough of a trance that sometimes she forgot she was hungry. She had never made a peep during one of Uhura’s performances, not once. But it was Uhura’s normal voice too that made Joanna look at her with the moon in her eyes.

“There’s my little JoJo!” Uhura gushed after the performance was over, grinning widely as she walked towards McCoy with her arms wide open.

“She’s just about been trying to leap out of my arms to get to you,” McCoy said fondly, placing Joanna in Uhura’s arms.

Uhura whispered a Vulcan greeting to her and then pressed her forehead to hers. Joanna reached for her, fascinated by her dangling hoop earrings. “Me too, Jo – Leonard I’ll tell you, I can’t get _enough_ of this girl.”

“That does seem to be the general consensus,” Spock said, approaching them. He placed a hand gently on McCoy’s lower back, who leaned into him in response. “I was not prepared for such a… _joyous_ response.”

“You should hear him complain about it,” McCoy joked, winking at Uhura.

She grinned back at him. “But don’t you see, Mister Spock? She lightens up the whole room. She hardly even cries!”

“Yes, she does seem to save that particular torture for her parents,” Spock said lightly, and McCoy laughed.

“Well it’s to be expected, she’s a Vulcan – reserved in public, whiny as a bitch at home.”

Uhura failed to hold back her giggle as Spock turned to him, affronted. “Leonard, to think you would even suggest—”

“Excuse me, I do hope I’m in time to interrupt yet another lovers’ quarrel,” Jim said, joining their little circle.

“Just in time, Captain,” Uhura said fondly. “At this rate, I’m betting Jo’s first word will be ‘logical.’”

McCoy groaned overdramatically. “I’d just about kill myself.”

“Perhaps ‘illogical’ would be more likely,” Spock said, raising his eyebrows as McCoy slapped his arm.

“Well, she’ll have a knack for petty-arguing-bordering-on-flirting, that’s for sure,” Jim said with a grin. “Have you had enough Joanna time, Uhura?”

“Never, Captain,” she said, but gingerly handed her over.

“Hello, Miss Joanna,” Jim said, holding Joanna in front of him awkwardly by her armpits. “And how are you this fine evening?”

She grumbled unhappily and, chuckling, Jim tucked her into his arms properly. “I know, I know, just a joke.”

“You’re the only one that makes her grumpy, Jim,” McCoy said teasingly.

“Must be the jokes,” Spock added, and McCoy nearly split his side laughing.

Jim glared at the two of them. “You know, I think I liked it better when you two were arguing with _each other_.”

“I’m not sure I agree, Captain,” Uhura said, grinning widely. “This is better than the entertainment programs.”

“‘Idiots with a Baby’ could make a really good show,” McCoy mused. “Maybe I’ll quit being a doctor and become a director instead.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “You’re stacking up quite a repertoire, Leonard. Medical surgeon, interior decorator, director…”

“I only live once, might as well do everything!”

“I’d be afraid to see how you would portray all of us, Bones,” Jim said, tickling Joanna’s stomach. She did giggle this time, though it seemed to McCoy it was rather reluctant. He was constantly amazed by how much damn personality that baby had.

“You should be – I have a whole list of dumba—” Spock’s gaze bore into him – it was honestly amazing he’d let the ‘bitch’ comment slip by. He was too busy being personally offended, McCoy supposed, “—uh, dumb things you’ve done during our commission.”

Jim spluttered as Uhura smiled innocently at McCoy. “And what about me, Doctor?”

“You’re the only one I have nothing on, Uhura – you’re either angelic, or good at hiding it.” McCoy grinned at her. “I’m betting on the latter.”

“Why thank you, Doctor.” She turned to draw her fingers through Joanna’s hair, who was blinking rapidly in Jim’s arms. “It looks like our little queen is getting sleepy.”

“It’s way past her bedtime,” McCoy said, and then yawned loudly. “And mine, these days.”

“Thank you for performing with me, Uhura,” Spock said, as he always did, gently taking Joanna out of Jim’s arms and cradling her in his own. He passed his lute to McCoy, who spluttered indignantly.

“What is this, am I just your roadie now?”

Spock blinked at him – McCoy was sure he had no idea what a ‘roadie’ was, but it wasn’t really the point. “You may not, as you would say, ‘hog’ our daughter, Leonard. Nor may anyone else, for that matter.”

“Mister Spock!” Jim exclaimed, delighted. “Is that possessiveness I hear in your voice?”

“Not at all,” Spock replied, tilting his head. “It is simply logical for a father to want to spend time with his daughter.”

McCoy rolled his eyes skyward, but he was grinning.

That damn fucking logic.

\--

They had Joanna for two weeks before Spock started feeling the consequences of barely sleeping.

Spock did not sleep much anyway, and had a much higher tolerance to sleep deprivation than humans. However, that was not to say that he didn’t need it, as McCoy was always so fond of pointing out. Every three or four days generally, he required a full eight hours of undisturbed sleep, something that had started coming much easier to him once he began sharing a bed with McCoy more frequently. Every other day, his meditation gave him enough rest to function normally.

However, he could not sustain himself indefinitely just on his meditation, which with Joanna now on board seemed to be the only time he got undisturbed rest.

He and McCoy were taking turns feeding Joanna and changing her diaper when she woke up crying in the middle of the night, but that did not mean that the other did not wake up – it was simply that they did not get out of bed. McCoy had prepared hypos that ensured they’d fall asleep immediately after they returned to bed, but the fact of the matter was that every night was an endless cycle of waking up and falling back asleep and waking up yet again.

Spock did not know how anyone survived infant parenting.

He woke up that morning feeling like he had not even shut his eyes. His chest was crusty from when Joanna had drooled milk all over him earlier that morning and McCoy’s light snoring seemed impossibly loud in his ears. 

He told himself that all he needed was a shower, his meditation, and perhaps some Vulcan spice tea, and then got out of bed.

His body was less convinced when he trudged his way to his morning shift. He found it hard to focus on what anyone said to him, and when he sat heavily at his seat, he found that everything in front of him seemed unintelligible. When he looked into the scope, he nearly blinded himself with how intensely bright the light seemed. Had Scott made modifications to the equipment overnight? Why did everything seem impossible to comprehend?

Why was it so difficult to keep his eyes open?

“Spock.” A hand gently shook his shoulder and Spock jolted awake. He was incredibly disoriented for a moment before he realized he was on the Bridge, slouched in the chair at his station. Jim was staring at him with an easy smile, his hand still on his shoulder. “Are you feeling alright?”

Spock just stared at him for a moment, in complete disbelief. It was impossible for him to have fallen asleep at his station. He had _never_ fallen asleep at his station. “I apologize Captain, I don’t know—”

“You have an infant onboard, Mister Spock, it would happen to the best of us.”

…This was not acceptable. His research had told him that it would take Joanna likely until her first birthday to be able to last through the night without crying for attention. It would not be tolerable for Spock to risk occasionally falling asleep at his station for that length of time.

Something would have to be done about this.

The comm beeped and when Jim answered it McCoy’s voice crinkled over the line. “Hey Spock, you were supposed to meet me in Sickbay to go over these skin tissues ten minutes ago, do I have to drag you down here even for _that_?”

“I’m sure he was heading that way, Bones,” Jim replied with a really unpleasant grin. “Mister Spock just dozed off momentarily.”

It was silent for a moment. “‘ _Dozed off?_ ’ Spock?”

“We were all surprised!”

“I am quite well now, Doctor,” Spock interjected uncomfortably. “I’ll be down with you shortly.”

“Never mind, don’t you dare come down here – I’m on my way.”

Spock suppressed a sigh. Then, something occurred to him and he glanced up at Jim. “…Captain, what skin tissues am I meant to be analyzing?”

Jim sent him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mister Spock – by the time I noticed you were asleep, we had already interacted with the colony, had the skin tissues beamed up, and agreed to analyze them. I’ll fill you in before Bones gets here, to spare you further embarrassment.”

“…That is quite considerate of you, Captain,” Spock said, deep shame flushing through him before he could suppress it. “I once again apologize—”

“It’s already forgotten,” Jim said, waving a hand.

Jim filled him in on the skin samples they had collected, and the bacterial infection they were supposed to be looking for and identifying, and by the time McCoy stepped onto the Bridge Spock felt perfectly alert and functioning.

“Doctor, it was not necessary for you to come up here – I am ready to assist you. They are simple samples.”

McCoy glared at him. “Sure you are – now sit down, Mister Spock. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had a look at you.”

Spock thought about arguing, but quickly reasoned it would be a waste of time, knowing how stubborn McCoy would be.

So he sat.

When McCoy was done scanning him, he looked him straight in the eye. “Spock, you’re in no state to analyze _anything_ , not even ‘simple samples.’ Don’t make me pull the Doctor card to get you to go to bed, because I swear to God I _will_ get out the rope and tie you to the bed, understand?”

“Bones, keep your kinks to yourself, would you?” Jim called.

McCoy flushed and whirled around. “I didn’t mean it like that, you—!”

“I will rest, Doctor.” Spock placed his fingers gently around McCoy’s wrist. “Doctor M’Benga is still watching Joanna?”

McCoy turned back to place his hand over Spock’s and smiled. “Yup, our quarters are currently screaming baby free. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I will.” Spock stood and then frowned as something occurred to him. “Will you still be able to analyze the tissues without my assistance?”

“Yeah, it won’t be as efficient, but I’ll work it out.” McCoy thought for a moment and then said, “Ah, hel—mets, I’ll just do it the hard way.”

Jim smirked at him. “Helmets, Bones?”

It was hard for even Spock to bite back his smile. “Joanna has done a remarkable job of curing the Doctor’s profanity, Captain.”

“Like helmets she has,” McCoy muttered and stormed off the Bridge.

It was probably fortunate that he didn’t hear Jim’s unconstrained cackling.

“I will take my leave as well then, Captain,” Spock said, still feeling horribly embarrassed as he left the Bridge.

He had to admit though, it was wonderful to sleep properly again. He fell asleep immediately upon laying down on his side of the bed and did not wake again until later that evening. He woke gently to the smell of vegetable stir fry, an intriguing human dish, and the sound of Leonard humming off-key to himself. It was homey enough that it made Spock, illogically, not want to get out of bed.

But he eventually got up to find Leonard, cooking instead of using the replicator. The crackle and pop of the vegetables sizzling in the pan were quite loud. Joanna was sitting in a crudely crafted high chair next to him, banging a spoon at an even louder volume on the foldable table in front of her.

Spock had apparently slept through all of this.

He would have to try and expand on this ability.

“Hey, welcome back to the world of the living,” Leonard said, grinning at Spock.

“I was, in fact, alive the whole time, Leonard,” Spock replied, allowing himself to smile gently as he joined them in the small kitchen area. He placed his hand over Joanna’s and she smiled widely at him.

“I suppose so, with the way you snore,” Leonard teased, jostling him with his hip.

Spock frowned at him. “I do not snore!”

“Yes, you do! Doesn’t he, Joanna?”

Joanna hit Spock’s finger with her spoon.

Wincing, Spock withdrew his hand. “I suppose you’re going to count that as agreement.”

“Dam—age straight, I will.” Leonard crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re trying to tell me that sound I hear every night is something else. Your pet teddy bear, perhaps? With its, what was it, six-inch fangs?”

“Your active imagination never fails to amaze me,” Spock said, shaking his head. “And besides, you snore, as well.”

“I do not! Do I, Joanna?”

This time, she threw her spoon at Leonard. It hit him square in the cheek and then fell straight into the pan he was cooking in.

“Trucking shins of sons of beaches,” Leonard swore, quite impressively, as he diverted all of his attention to trying to dig the spoon out of the hot pan.

“You have done quite well, Joanna,” Spock said, resting his hand on her head, this time. “I thought Leonard untrainable.”

“I heard that, you kinky mothershucker.”

Spock shook his head. “You spend too much time around Jim.”

“So do you.”

Leonard managed to fish the spoon out without burning himself, and soon after they sat for dinner. Joanna had already had her milk, but she sat with them at the table in her high-chair, playing with Spock’s _kal-toh_ , a puzzle she did not yet have the mental capabilities to solve. Spock was pleased anyway that she was interested in it. It was strange how quickly Spock had grown accustomed to having her there with them, how strange it had been to enter their quarters earlier for his nap and not have her in the room with him.

“If you’re dozing off on shift, we both must be doing worse than I thought,” Leonard said after they’d eaten in quiet companionship for a few minutes.

“Indeed.” Spock eyed him closely. “How are you faring, Leonard?”

“Well, I haven’t collapsed yet, but my attention’s slipping. Today I just about injected testosterone into a trans woman instead of her estrogen doses, I mean can you _imagine_ how awful that would’ve been?” Leonard shook his head. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

“I agree. The ship requires that we both be fully present, and Joanna does as well.” Spock thought for a moment. “We have your quarters, still. Perhaps it will be necessary for one of us to sleep there occasionally and get proper rest.”

“…I guess that would be for the best. We can’t be underperforming on duty, after all.” Leonard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll have to get used to sleeping alone again.”

Spock held his gaze. “It will be difficult.”

This made the corner of Leonard’s lips turn up into a small smile. “You big softie.”

“You said it first.”

The rest of Leonard’s mouth followed the corner until it was his real smile, the one that made his eyes sparkle. “I guess I did.

He was smiling down at his plate, so Spock could look at him all he wished. He enjoyed watching Leonard – he always had. Growing up on Vulcan, Spock had learned how to read even the slightest of facial muscle changes due to the subtlety of Vulcan expression, and so watching Leonard’s face was like watching an old Earth tradition, that he believed Leonard had called a “fireworks show.” Leonard was extra expressive even for a human, Spock had learned – his face was always doing something. Whether it was the arch of his eyebrow or the curve of his mouth or the way the light shined in his eyes, there was always something fascinatingly different about Leonard’s face whenever Spock looked at him. It was enjoyable, and familiar, to catalogue the changes.

He realized abruptly that it was strange how much he had come to rely on Leonard being part of his life, too. He had once thought it impossible, and perhaps even illogical, to share his life with someone, and even if he had allowed himself to imagine it, he’d always imagined his partner to be Vulcan. Or if not Vulcan, certainly not human.

But here was Leonard, the exact opposite of everything Spock had ever thought he wanted, slotted perfectly into his life. They complimented each other – they had always made a good team working, but it turned out it worked for more personal aspects as well. Leonard knew him better than anyone else ever had, and yet still smiled at him and joked with him and got angry at him when he really deserved it. He was loud, passionate, witty, incredibly smart, and not afraid to speak up for what he believed in.

Spock loved everything about him.

Watching him, Spock made a decision. There was perhaps some part of it based on logic, if he stretched it far enough, but most of it was based on pure, human emotion – or whatever emotion was called when Spock had it.

And for the first time in his life, this did not frighten him.

\--

“Uh-oh, here comes Bones,” Jim said, smirking at McCoy as he stormed onto the Bridge.

McCoy ignored him and stomped up to Spock, glaring at his curved back as he stared into the scope. “Spock, are you going to come down for your physical or do I have to threaten you?”

It had been his turn to sleep alone in his old quarters, and thus he was in a foul mood. It was kind of pathetic, he supposed, since it was only one day out of four that he had to sleep alone, but he _liked_ his routine with Spock – he’d grown accustomed to falling asleep burrowed into his back and waking up with the heat of him still in the sheets. He’d grown accustomed to their occasional shared early morning reading time. He’d grown accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night to feed Joanna and have delirious, half-asleep conversations.

And drainage, he _missed_ it.

…Good Lord, he was even starting to _think_ in that strange censored speak Spock and Joanna had forced onto him.

“I was just heading there, Doctor,” Spock said, but he was still staring down into his scope.

McCoy grit his teeth. He supposed he was the fool for believing that being in a relationship with a doctor for two years would make someone come on schedule to their dang physical. “Mister Spock, I will declare you unfit for duty if you don’t come with me to Sickbay right now.”

“Quite illogical as always, Doctor, as you do not have any medical proof to back up your claim,” Spock said, shaking his head, but finally straightened and followed him to the turbolift.

McCoy smirked at him. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“Only because I know you tend to function primarily on illogic,” Spock said, nodding his head at him.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You are continuing to fabricate information.”

McCoy laughed as they stepped off the turbolift. “Yeah? And what are you going to do about it, court martial me?”

“I fear Starfleet would not survive your indignant tirade if I were to do so.”

McCoy grinned. “Now _that’s_ the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When they arrived in Sickbay, Geoff was already there, bouncing Joanna in his arms. Spock seemed marginally surprised, but McCoy had been expecting him. He took Joanna from him and, after pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, placed her gently on one of the biobeds. “Thanks, Geoff – now go get some rest.”

“With pleasure, Doctor,” Geoff said with a wry smile, and ducked out of Sickbay.

“I’m going to give Joanna her first real physical, too,” McCoy told Spock. “Last time we were just comparing her biodreadings to yours, but this time I want to establish what’s normal for her, what I should expect to be different from you. If she gets injured, I don’t want to get caught not knowing what to do.”

Spock hadn’t needed convincing, apparently – he was already sitting on the biobed next to Joanna’s. “Logical, Doctor.”

McCoy rolled his eyes as he set up the equipment, Christine coming over to do the same for Joanna. Spock’s portion of the physical didn’t last long—he was in excellent condition, as he usually was—but because of the extra comparisons and data collection they were doing for Joanna, it took much longer than a usual physical. It was too bad they’d have to do this over and over again as she grew and her bioreadings fluctuated naturally with growth, but McCoy found he wasn’t too bothered by it.

He was starting to realize he’d do just about anything for his baby girl.

“Alright, Mister Spock, you’re free to go,” McCoy said when they were finally done, and handed him his shirt. “And do me a favor and don’t make me manhandle you down here next time, alright?”

Spock raised his eyebrows as he slid his shirt on over his head. “I for one would be intrigued to see you attempt to do so.”

“Oh, shut it.” McCoy snapped his glove at him playfully. Joanna had fallen asleep, no doubt worn out by all of the tests they had done, so McCoy left her to doze for a moment as he went to his computer to input all the information he had just gathered.

Spock, surprisingly, hovered next to him.

McCoy glanced up at him. “…Do you need something?”

Spock just stood there stiffly for a moment, twisting his mouth in weird ways like he was trying to say something. McCoy could only take a few seconds of just staring at him fidget before he returned to the computer.

“You will not find this romantic, and you may even get angry,” Spock finally started, and it wasn’t a very promising start, at that.

McCoy glanced at him warily. “Uh-huh.”

“But I would like to make our relationship official when we next stop at Vulcan.”

That certainly ripped his attention away from the computer. Pausing, he straightened and stared at Spock in utter bewilderment. He did his best to ignore the fact that Christine was still within ear shot. “…Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes. There is no one else I would rather spend my life with.”

It was impossible to ignore Christine now, as she had turned to stare directly at them, eyebrows raised to her hairline. Ears a bit pink, McCoy grabbed Spock’s arm and pulled him into his office. He sat back on his desk and chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought.

He had to admit he had failed to see this coming. When they’d first started this thing, he was sure he wasn’t the only one who thought it wouldn’t last. He and Spock were the most volatile people together, and they’d had enough arguments to fuel a starship. But against all odds, they’d survived the rockiness of their initial relationship and were still together two years later. They were living together, they were publicly in a relationship, and hell, they had just adopted a _kid_ together. It certainly wasn’t something that was going to end soon.

And he trusted Spock, _really_ trusted him, like he hadn’t anyone in a long time. Loved him too, deep in his chest like an ache.

Maybe it was time to give up his old misgivings.

“…You know, there was a time when I promised myself I wouldn’t marry anyone ever again.”

Spock tilted his head to the side. “…But I assume this is not true for you now?”

There was, amazingly, some small part of McCoy that still hesitated to say yes. “…This isn’t just because of Joanna, is it?”

“It is partially because of her. If we were ever questioned, it would be easier for us to claim custody of her if we married.” Spock looked somewhere slightly past McCoy’s ear. “But it is not the only reason.”

McCoy couldn’t help but smile. “Oh yeah? And what’s your other reason?”

“I do not know why you always insist on making me say it over and over again,” Spock said, huffing out a small breath. “You know how I feel.”

“Oh come on, Spock, I’m an illogical, insecure human,” McCoy said, grinning as he patted his parted legs. “Humor me.”

Spock raised an eyebrow but came anyway, slotting into the space between McCoy’s legs. McCoy wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leaned into the kiss Spock gave him.

“I wish to marry you,” Spock whispered between kisses, “because I love you, Leonard.”

“Hm, I do love when you say that,” McCoy whispered back, smiling so hard that Spock’s next kiss landed on his teeth. “And I love you too, by the way.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Leonard.”

Still smiling, McCoy pressed his forehead to Spock’s. “Yeah, I’ll marry you, you ridiculous Vulcan.”

Spock’s shoulders relaxed slightly under McCoy’s hands. McCoy closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Spock around him. “…Did you think I was going to say no?”

Spock let out a small breath. “Jim told me that you’ve had…unpleasant experiences with marriage in the past. I considered it to be a strong possibility.”

“Hold on, you told _Jim_ about this?” McCoy said, leaning back a little and opening his eyes again. He searched Spock’s gaze, but only found confusion there.

“Does this displease you?”

McCoy had to think for a moment, but he quickly realized that it didn’t. Of course Spock would consult Jim first about something like this – it was in his nature. “…Not really, I just can’t believe Jim didn’t immediately yap to me about it and ruin the surprise.”

This elicited a small smile out of Spock, just as McCoy had hoped it would. His entire body seemed to relax this time as he leaned into McCoy, his hands warm and steady on his hips. “I admit that was a concern of mine as well. He seemed…much more enthusiastic at the prospect than I had anticipated.”

“I think Jim sometimes gets sad about the fact that it’s not really practical for him to marry anyone,” McCoy said, tracing his thumb along the vein in Spock’s neck. “And he probably thought I would die alone in a ditch somewhere before getting married again.”

“…Was this truly a plan you once had for yourself?” Spock asked, suddenly concerned.

McCoy let out a small laugh. “No, no, it’s just like you said, I didn’t have the greatest of experiences with it before. I didn’t like that person nearly as much as I like you, though.”

Spock’s brow was still furrowed. “Then why would you marry such a person—”

“I don’t want to talk about that marriage right now, I want to talk about ours,” McCoy interrupted and then paused. “God, ‘our marriage.’ What a concept.” 

“Indeed.” Spock searched his face for a moment. “Before we go further, I must inform you of a Vulcan marriage tradition you may not be aware of.”

McCoy nodded. “The mind link, right?”

Spock’s brows furrowed. “How did you—?”

“I actually asked Amanda about it, the last time they were on board. I noticed that she seemed to know exactly what was going on with Sarek, and I was curious. She was kind enough to take the time to explain it to me.”

“I see.” Spock tilted his head. “And what are your opinions about it?”

McCoy took one of Spock’s hands, tracing his thumb along his veins. He knew these hands better than he knew his own. “There was a time when the idea of sharing a mental link with you scared the living bejesus out of me.”

Spock looked utterly bewildered. “The ‘living bejesus?’”

McCoy laughed. “Never mind, Spock. The point is, I’m not afraid anymore. You know everything about me as it is, a mind link is hardly scarier than that.”

“…I’m not sure I follow, Leonard.”

McCoy pressed his first two fingers to Spock’s and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips once, softly. “I don’t mind linking with you, in fact I want to. Do you follow that?”

“Yes.” Spock’s eyes sparkled as he pressed his fingers against McCoy’s more purposefully. “I’m unsure why you didn’t start with that.”

“Well you know, I can’t always get across what I’m trying to say—”

“On the contrary, I think you usually make your emotions quite clear.”

“Oh, fuck you,” McCoy laughed, leaning forward to kiss Spock again.

They kissed a few more times, through their hands and their lips, before Spock pulled back slightly, one eyebrow raised and eyes bright with amusement. “You remembered how to curse, Leonard. Unfortunate.”

“Is it? I seem to remember a certain time, or several, where you found it _quite_ charming—”

“Fabricating yet _more_ information—”

McCoy couldn’t help himself – he collapsed slightly backwards, laughing so hard it was hurting his sides. The only reason he didn’t roll right back off his desk was because Spock’s arms were still strong and steady around him, anchoring him, like he always did. Goddamn, he really did love Spock – sometimes he surprised himself with how strong his love for him was. He was sure the McCoy of three years ago would’ve snarled at anyone who tried to tell him he would eventually feel this way about the infuriating Vulcan first officer. 

“So, fiancée,” McCoy said when he’d recovered his breath, nearly cackling all over again as Spock raised an eyebrow at the nickname, “Did our dear Captain happen to tell you when we’d next be near Vulcan?”

“He said he thought he could manage making a quick…‘ _pit stop_ ’ there in six months.” Spock’s face was suddenly carefully blank. “Plenty of time to change your mind in between.” 

“You know Spock, for having such a brilliant mind you can really be a moron sometimes.” Frowning, McCoy reached up to rub his thumb across Spock’s cheek. “I’m not going to change my mind. We’ve survived two whole years already – seems unlikely we’d blow up in the next six months.”

“One might even say—” And damn him that blasted Vulcan was _smiling_ , “—illogical.”

“Alright, never mind, forget what I said—”

Amusement written all over his face, Spock stepped back, hands returning to their neutral position behind his back. “I must return to my post. I look forward to sharing a bed again tonight.”

And left just like that, before McCoy even had a chance to realize how red his face was.

“Did you say yes?” Christine asked him later when they were cleaning up Sickbay in preparation for the night crew.

“What?” His confusion at her question was cleared as soon as he looked up at her teasing face. “Oh. Uh. Yeah, I did.”

Christine smiled, bright and wild. “Great! Geoff owes me dinner the next time we’re on shore leave.”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. “What the devil—don’t tell me you bet on when Spock and I would get _married_.”

“I was worried there for a moment, because I know how much baggage you have with marriage, but Mister Spock came through for me, just like I thought he would,” Christine said, beaming as she grabbed her small bag of personal items. “Good night, Doctor.”

“Hold on a blasted minute—”

But she had already left, leaving McCoy alone with a wriggly Joanna.

“Figures she would care more about her bet than the fact that I’m getting married,” he grumbled, though he couldn’t help but laugh about it. He knew that she would be the most happy and supportive on the actual day, so really he was grateful she had spared him for now.

“Well then, should we go home to Papa?” he said to Joanna, who was pressing her hands all over his face. It was, as Spock had told him, strangely reminiscent of a developing practice Vulcan babies had, and was a way of scoping out their telepathic touch abilities. Romulans, as far as they knew, had no such telepathic abilities. Spock found it intriguing, and intended to keep a close eye on Joanna’s development.

On McCoy’s part, he thought Joanna just liked slapping him in the face.

The walk back to their quarters was a short one, and inside they found Spock already there, shrugging off his uniform. He straightened, a knee-jerk reaction if McCoy had ever seen one, and then relaxed, his entire face soft. “Welcome home, Leonard, Joanna.”

He walked over and McCoy transferred Joanna to his arms. He smiled, a small, soft one and pressed his forehead to hers, whispering a greeting in Vulcan.

“We’re home,” McCoy said, also smiling, and sank into Spock’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this, I really hope you enjoyed it! I plan to write more (a LOT more) in this universe, so stay tuned for that whenever I get around to it lol
> 
> Come chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kaoru_of_hakone) !


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